Toilet Paper
Fresh from my shower, I stand in front of the mirror complaining to my
husband that my breasts are too small. Instead of characteristically telling
me it's not so, he uncharacteristically comes up with a suggestion.
"If you want your breasts to grow, then every day take a piece of toilet
paper and rub it between them for a few seconds."
Willing to try anything, I fetch a piece of toilet paper and stand in front
of the mirror, rubbing it between my breasts. "How long will this take?" I
asked.
"They will grow larger over a period of years," my husband replies.
I stopped. "Do you really think rubbing a piece of toilet paper between my
breasts every day will make my breasts larger over the years?"
Without missing a beat he says "Worked for your butt, didn't it?"
He's still alive, and with a great deal of therapy, he may even walk again,
although he will probably continue to take his meals through a straw.
Fresh from my shower, I stand in front of the mirror complaining to my
husband that my breasts are too small. Instead of characteristically telling
me it's not so, he uncharacteristically comes up with a suggestion.
"If you want your breasts to grow, then every day take a piece of toilet
paper and rub it between them for a few seconds."
Willing to try anything, I fetch a piece of toilet paper and stand in front
of the mirror, rubbing it between my breasts. "How long will this take?" I
asked.
"They will grow larger over a period of years," my husband replies.
I stopped. "Do you really think rubbing a piece of toilet paper between my
breasts every day will make my breasts larger over the years?"
Without missing a beat he says "Worked for your butt, didn't it?"
He's still alive, and with a great deal of therapy, he may even walk again,
although he will probably continue to take his meals through a straw.
